#enemies to lovers

[bebx]

forever yearning

[luna-azzurra]

Quick tips for writing rivals-to-lovers

༄ they insist they don’t think about each other. they lie. everyone knows.

༄ A* makes a snarky comment, B* responds with an even sharper one, and now they’re 2 inches apart like “say that again” with full eye contact. yeah. tension.

༄ constant one-upping. “oh you saved a cat from a tree? I saved a family from a burning building.”

༄ intense sparring sessions. the kind that are technically training but full of grunts, heavy breathing, accidental pinning, and unnecessary touching.

༄ "i can't stand you" but they know exactly how the other takes their coffee

༄ enemies forced to work together on a mission. only one bed. hate-cuddling. hate spooning. hate realizing it’s actually kind of nice.

༄ “if you die, I’ll kill you myself.” (said sincerely.)

༄ B* almost gets hurt and A* goes absolutely feral. later insists it was “just instinct” (sure, buddy.)

༄ petty insults but they remember everything about each other

༄ one of them has a detailed list of reasons the other sucks. also they keep the list in a very secure spot. also they reread it a lot. suspiciously often.

༄ jealousy. so much jealousy. “i don’t care who they flirt with” said while visibly vibrating with rage

༄ A* wins something. B* says “congrats.” it sounds like a war declaration.

༄ they call each other by last name. until the first time one of them whispers the other’s first name and it hits like a goddamn thunderclap

༄ they kiss once to “shut the other up” and it’s all downhill from there

༄ they argue so often and with such passion that everyone else assumes they’re already dating

༄ insult → smirk → “make me” → tension → regret → denial → repeat

༄ “you’re so annoying” but the voice is weirdly soft this time

༄ eventually one of them just breaks and says “i don’t even know when it stopped being fake. i just know i don’t want it to be anymore.” and then we all cry

[babsvibes]

One of the funniest things about enemies-to-lovers ships is how they’re almost always obsessed with each other. Like if a character actively chooses to interact with another character over and over again instead of simply ignoring them? Throw darts at it all you want, but you still printed out a picture of them to hang on your wall

[furrymansworld]

The unmistakable truth of love at a distance.

"i wonder if we ever think of each other at the same time."

[theaftersundown]

the holy grail types of fanfic

[rainedravens]

"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

[hwang-inho-132]

you read stuff on wattpad for shit and giggles where most of the fics there are reader-inserted ones written in 1st person pov where y/n is a barely legal white girl with blonde hair and blue “orbs” who’s so smol and fragile that she’s dependent entirely on this morally questionable guy who’s killing people for a living but for some reason happens to have a soft spot for her.

you read real actual literature on archive of our own where it’s two middle aged men, who are each other’s sworn enemies, with tragic past, trauma and strong homoerotic tension. and while they’ve made each other bleed, killed each other’s friends and loved ones out of jealousy / possessiveness, lied and betrayed and manipulated, the rawness, depth, complexity and slow burn will keep you up all night, haunt you during your day and possibly change your life forever. and also the sex isn’t just smut. the sex is poetry that puts Shakespeare to shame

[maymay-0978]

Oh to be manhandled

[luna-azzurra]

Write Rivals With Chemistry So Hot It Hurts

╰ Rivalry isn’t hate — it’s obsession True rivals aren't just like, “ugh, I dislike you.” They’re watching each other. Studying. Matching moves. Thinking about each other when they shouldn’t. Hating how much they notice the other person. Rivalry is two sides of the same coin: hatred’s messy little sibling is fascination.

╰ Let them know exactly where to hit—and hesitate The best rivals know exactly where to stick the knife. Childhood wounds. Secret fears. Insecurities no one else sees. But the most powerful moment isn't when they stab, it's when they hesitate. When they flinch. When the reader sees the care underneath the kill shot.

╰ Make every win personal Every victory between rivals should feel like flirting with a knife’s edge. They don't just beat each other; they get under each other's skin. "I outsmarted you" translates directly to "I'm the only one who really sees you." (And no, they're not ready to talk about why that makes them insane.)

╰ Layer the attraction under everything You don't have to write "he found her hot" every five seconds. (Please don't.) Just lace it into the friction. The way they notice each other’s hands. The way a sarcastic smile feels like a slap and a kiss at the same time. Let it be unspoken, which somehow makes it ten times louder.

╰ Give them one private, honest moment and then destroy them for it That one late-night conversation. That brush of honesty. That accidental partnership in a bar fight. That glimpse of trust that leaves them both raw and feral because now it’s personal. Now it hurts. And guess what? Neither of them is stable enough to handle it like adults.

╰ Let them wound each other in ways no one else can Rivals with chemistry are like: “I know your softest place. I know where you hurt. And maybe I’m the only one who could ever touch it.” Terrifying. Intimate. Sexy. Self-destructive. Delicious.

╰ Don’t make it easy to flip to love If they hook up too soon, it’s cheap. If they confess too soon, it’s fake. They have to fight it. They have to screw it up. They have to almost kiss and almost kill each other in the same breath. The reward is sweeter because it’s hard won.

╰ Make them jealous, but make it messy Not cutesy "oh no I'm jealous" moments. Ugly jealousy. Pride-shredding, shame-inducing jealousy. Watching their rival smile at someone else and feeling like they're drowning in acid and denial. Bonus points if they pretend they’re above it and then spiral anyway.

╰ Tension isn’t just in the fighting, it’s in the silences It’s the stare across the room that says “I hate you and I want you” with zero words. It’s the hand that lingers a second too long after pulling them out of danger. It's the unsent text. It's the "accidental" meeting. Sometimes not speaking burns hotter than the screaming matches.

╰ Remember, they don’t want to ruin each other, they want to matter At the core of a rival/chemistry dynamic is one truth: “I want to matter to you more than anyone else does.” And they’ll deny it. And fight it. And wreck themselves over it. (And we, as the readers, will eat it with a goddamn spoon.)

[the-badger-mole]

Katara was willing to let Zuko die in the North Pole after she defeated him and he was knocked out. It was the Aang you hate so much that said they had to take Zuko with them on Appa so he wouldn’t freeze to death. Although Katara forgave Zuko near the end of the series I just think it’s overlooked by zutara shippers that she lowkey hated him for the majority of it.

What are you talking about? It's not ignored. It's called ENEMIES to lovers for a reason. It wouldn't work as a trope if they didn't even try to kill each other at least a little bit. Not even once🙄

Also, Aang had yet another hint here about how Katara, Sokka and the rest of the world expected him to deal with the Fire Lord, and he still didn't even think about how he would do it without killing him, not one time? Ladies and gents, our...hero?

[kyri45]

I didn’t realize you were the person who did the fanfiction tag drinks.

ahah yeah that's meeee!!

They are all available as stickers on my RedBubble shop!

Also I did Part 2!

[theenemiestoloversclub]

would I really be @theenemiestoloversclub if I didn’t have some Reylo on my blog??

Forgive me.

[mercuryw1tch]

Hear me out: AU where Megatron and Optimus are coordinators of rival camping activities for younglings and it's an enemy to lovers in the woods and kids love them both because they are just silly and super competitive over stuff like sack race or fishing idk I'm in the mood for some summer AUs

[clawedcryptid]

Enemies to lovers

hatred that morphs to obsession that morphs to devotion. is this anything

[setarepersian]

Frontman X You | The Price of a Mercy

< Side story >

Summary: The Front Man overhears you telling your school friends that you’d never want to sleep with a man like him.

Warning: Bullying, use of sexual language, mild reference to oral sex, forced kneeling, threats.

This is a side story from The Price Of Mercy , set between your failed escape from the Front Man and the hospital scene. Hope you enjoy reading it!

You don't need to read the main story to enjoy this one — but if you'd like to start the original:

Chapter One is here

Tag list: @theredvelvetbitch @izsoh @vanchi7 @coolasiangal123 @claraflavour @chanyeolchannie @demmyath @watasinekoru @startled-cats @mxriesss @lyndadawn @vkeyy @goingmery69 @saira-matsu-stuff @lunaryoongie @demmyath @xyndyn @carlandoxlestappen @222222zzzzzzzzzz23

A cold beam of light streamed through the tall cafeteria windows, spilling across polished tables, half-finished coffees, and the flawless hair of girls destined to grip the country’s future in their manicured hands.

But you—your gaze had already drifted past the glass.

To the garden drowned in morning fog.

To the fountain that no longer sang like it used to.

Your hand hovered near your lips, aimless.

Lips that still, even now, carried the taste of that damned kiss.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t bitter.

It tasted like power.

Forbidden.

You remembered how his tongue pushed into your mouth—how Hwang In-ho cornered you in that hallway, devoured you with his lips, and then left you there in tears, abandoned and trembling.

Your stomach twisted—not from nausea.

But from the memory of that fire pooling low in your belly, the way his breath had ghosted over your skin.

"That older guy... I see him sometimes. He comes to pick you up. Is he under your father's leash too?"

It came out of nowhere.

Flat. Emotionless.

Like the scent of dried nail polish wafting from Soo-jin’s fingers.

She could’ve been talking about the weather, not the man who haunted your nights.

You turned your head slowly, hand slipping from your lips to push back your hair.

“You mean Hwang In-ho? Strange of you to be curious about anything at all.”

Soo-jin looked up.

Blank. Hollow.

But at the corner of her mouth—that smile.

A smile not of a hunter, but of someone who wounds for sport.

Something between enemy and friend.

Ally and traitor.

She was never your friend. Never claimed to be.

And you? You never needed her to be.

She was the daughter of a politician—one of your father’s occasional partners and frequent rivals. The animosity trickled down, infecting even the children.

“Just wanted to know... If he’s just a lowly servant, that’s a waste. A face like that deserves better.”

Your smile faltered. One brow lifted.

“And what exactly are you implying?”

Before she could reply, your table was surrounded.

Min-ho and the others arrived—heirs to empires of business, politics, and corruption.

Kids with angelic faces and rotting minds.

The type who enjoyed seeing blood on others, as long as it wasn’t their own.

Min-ho laughed.

“Oh, talking about the guy your dad sent to the PTA meeting instead of himself? My mom couldn’t take her eyes off him. Said he looked... enchanted.”

You understood.

All of it.

They weren’t seeking gossip.

They were hunting for cracks in your armor—places to start peeling you apart.

Soo-jin tilted her head.

“So tell me—have you taken him to bed yet? You always did like older men. Never showed interest in the boys around us.”

Silence.

You sipped your coffee. Bitterer than ever.

Then said, slow and sharp:

“If I wanted to, I could have had him — or any man — all to myself. But let’s be honest, Soo-jin… why would I ever want someone like Hwang In-ho between my legs on my bed, when I’m surrounded by real men?”

The air froze.

Stares turned cold.

Even the soft café music faded into nothing.

But your mind?

It wandered.

To the feel of his fingers inside you.

Big hands—so naturally his fingers would be long, thick.

You clenched your teeth, cutting off the thought.

A small, knowing smile curved your lips.

“Since I was young, I liked men who built their own power. Not the ones begging for scraps from my father. Honestly... if I ever choose to seduce someone, it’ll be someone like your father, Soo-jin. Especially now, with your mom out of the picture.”

Her voice spiked, furious:

“(Your Name), watch your fucking mouth!”

You looked at her, eyes void of regret.

Filled with quiet satisfaction as the serpent’s pride cracked.

And the others? They loved it.

They didn’t care who won—they just loved watching someone bleed.

But then—a tap on your shoulder cut through it all.

You turned your head...

And there he was.

Hwang In-ho.

Black suit. Rigid posture. Emotionless stare.

Like a statue you’d commissioned—only now it refused your command.

He had come on your father’s orders.

To take you... God knew where.

To hand you off to yet another wolf, so your father could grease another bloody deal.

Moments later, you walked beside him, silent.

Out of the school, past the stone path.

The air was heavy. Not from closeness.

But from the weight of two strangers tied by invisible chains.

You spoke first, sharp:

“Don’t read too much into it. I didn’t mean it.”

He stopped. Looked at you.

And with venom said:

“So you did wish I was between your legs? Or maybe with my mouth on you?”

Your hand clenched. Your face flushed.

That cursed kiss—again, it burned in your memory.

Then... the slap.

Hard. Loud.

Echoing off the cold stone.

“You arrogant bastard! Just because you caught me once trying to run, you think you own me? I’m Oh Il-nam’s daughter!”

The driver approached, opened the door.

But when you stepped forward—it slammed shut.

In-ho pushed you against the car, his grip bruising on your arm.

His breath slid over your skin.

His voice—quiet, lethal:

“Your father has a tumor. Terminal. When he dies, the real family gets everything. I’d like to see you talk big then.”

You whispered back, poisonous:

“You owe your life to me. I made you. So if anyone’s kneeling—it’s you, Hwang In-ho. Whether that old man dies or not.”

He pulled your arm, forced you to kneel in front of him.

He stood close—too close.

Close enough to feel your breath when you gasped.

Satisfying.

The street was quiet.

Your bare knee pressed against the cold asphalt beneath your skirt—it ached.

He cupped your chin, thumb brushing your lip.

“You wanted to see him, didn’t you? That’s why you went to his station.”

You snapped, furious:

“I didn’t mean to talk to him—”

Softer now, “I just... couldn’t believe you let him live.”

You meant Junho.

His younger brother. The detective.

The one who tried to help you escape, and failed.

In-ho stared down at you.

Those cold eyes—he drank in the sight of you kneeling.

Helpless.

He smirks. “I think before you get to have me down there between those pretty legs, you’ll be the one on your knees like this.”

Minutes passed.

He walked around, got in from the other side.

You entered the car without another word.

Closed the door. Looked away.

Driver in place. Engine started.

You stared out the right window.

He stared out the left.

You said nothing.

Not from hatred. Not from indifference.

But from something deeper.

An obsession that burned quietly in the dark—

A desire that only grew stronger with every taste of disgust.

You hated each other.

And yet, neither of you could look away.

And this... was only the beginning.

Writing by Setare

Next Part is coming soon

Thanks for reading the story! If you want to be tagged, let me know — and don’t forget to reblog, thank you! ❤️